Dr Who and the Tenth Planet

by Gerry Davis

  'They have full instructions, General. I'm just doing the final check.'

  Cutler swung his legs off the desk and walked across to the radar technician. 'What's the range?'

  'One thousand two hundred and fifty miles, sir.'

  'How far are they off course?'

  'Two hundred and thirty miles.'

  'Then it's increasing.'

  'Yes, I'm afraid it is, sir.'

  Cutler walked back to the console, leant over the desk, and spoke into the mike. 'Attention Zeus Four. Snowcap here. Don't worry, boys—everything's under control. We'll get you down double quick. You'll be having supper in Hawaii tonight with all those lovely girls!'

  'Get me Polar Base,' snapped Wigner,

  Tension was mounting at the International Space Centre. The communications console at the far end of the room—formerly empty—was now manned by I.S.C. technicians. One of them turned to the Secretary General. 'We're having trouble there, sir.'

  'Well keep trying.' Wigner turned in his chair, drummed his fingers on the desk, then leant forward and switched on the television monitor set in front of him. An announcer, familiar to millions of American homes, was standing beside a large globe of the Earth.

  'Since it was first discovered at South Pole Rocket Base,' the commentator was saying, 'reports have been coming in from observatories over the world confirming its existence.' A piece of paper was slipped to him, which he seized, and then announced triumphantly, 'Here, straight from Mount Paloma Observatory is the first picture of our neighbour in space.'

  As Wigner watched, the camera moved in for a close-up of the new 'Tenth Planet'—as the news media were already calling it.

  'Some observers have reported that its land masses resemble those of Earth,' the commentator continued, 'but this is being hotly disputed in top astronomical circles, and no general agreement has yet been reached. Jodrell Bank, England, say that the planet is approaching Earth—but there is absolutely no cause for alarm. It won't come near enough to collide. I repeat—there is no danger.'

  Wigner leant forward and switched off the monitor. He turned impatiently to the communications technician. 'What about Polar Base? Are you through?'

  'No, sir, we can't get them.'

  'What's happened?'

  'There's some degree of interference.'

  'What do you mean—interference? Who on earth would try to jam communications at a time like this?

  The technician shook his head. 'I don't know, sir. It doesn't resemble any of the classic jamming techniques used by...' he hesitated for a moment, '... other power blocks. This is something quite different. It's enormously powerful and—it seems to be coming from the Snowcap base itself!'

  'May I have everyone's attention, please,' Barclay was standing by his console. He waited until all the men in the room were attending fully, and then continued, 'This is important—so please listen carefully. Final orbit beginning from base reference one is...' he paused to look down at his console. '... four minutes ten seconds. Now we have an extremely difficult job on our hands. Everyone must be on their toes all the time. If the capsule power falls too low I shall take over re-entry from here, and for that I shall need all the radar tracking team behind me. Reference one commencing now.'

  Inside the observation room, the three time travellers were sharing the general tension outside. 'They must bring them down right away,' remarked the Doctor.

  'Why?' asked Polly.

  'Because they will be quite unable to complete another orbit.'

  'Hadn't you better tell them?' Ben motioned to the three men on the dais.

  'They probably know already.'

  Ben rose from the bench. 'Well, if you don't, I will.'

  He turned to leave the observation room—but the Doctor caught his arm and held it in an iron grip. Ben winced. But the Doctor didn't seem to be aware of the pressure he was applying—something at the far end of the tracking room had caught his attention.

  Three parka-clad figures had noiselessly entered, moved to the centre of the tracking room, and now stood immobile, their backs to the wall. Most of the occupants of the tracking room had their backs to them—and parka-clad soldiers were, anyway, a familiar enough sight. All Ben could see through the glass of the observation were three tall figures with their heads slightly bent—and a glimpse of snow goggles.

  'What is it?' asked Ben.

  'Stay—in—here.' The Doctor spoke urgently, and shook Ben's arm to punctuate his words.

  'I don't get it. It's only those soldiers...'

  'No—look,' cried Polly. She let out a slight scream and held her hand to her mouth.

  From the other side of the room, the three Cybermen were slowly removing their goggles. The time travellers could now see quite clearly the flat, expressionless masks, and the reflected glints of light as their hoods were thrown back to reveal the menacing silver helmets.

  Suddenly, a nearby technician turned—his mouth fell open, thunderstruck. He was followed by others. One by one the men became aware and turned to face the new arrivals.

  Cutler, sitting on the dais with his back to them, was the last to notice. He caught sight of the men rising from their consoles and backing away from the three visitors.

  'What the devil!' he called. 'Get back to your places.' Then he turned and saw the tall, menacing figures.

  A soldier standing guard at the other end of the room saw the Cybermen, reached for his carbine, and took aim. The nearby technicians ducked under their consoles. In response, one of the Cybermen casually raised a short silver baton-like object, and levelled it.

  The soldier's shot rang out across the room. It was followed almost immediately by a red flash and a short hard noise like a football rattle from the Cyberman's weapon. The soldier froze in his tracks, the carbine dropped from his hands, and he fell back against the console. Smoke spiralled upwards from the openings in his uniform.

  'Oh no!' Polly moved past the Doctor to go to the aid of the fallen soldier, but was stopped by Ben.

  'Stay where you are, Duchess. They'll blow your head off.' He pulled her back inside the observation room.

  Everyone was waiting breathlessly for the Cybermen's next move. Finally, Cutler flung his cigar on the floor, stamped on it and stood up. 'Everyone back to their places.'

  The Cyberleader Krail, who had fired on the soldier, stepped forward. His flat, monotonous voice spoke sharply. 'Stop.'

  Cutler, his face black with rage, turned on the Cyberman. 'I don't know what you are, or who you are, but we've got two men up in space and if we don't act now they won't get down alive.'

  The Cyberman replied in the same flat, inexpressive monotone. 'They will not return.'

  There was a chorus of exclamations from the men in the room.

  'Not return?' spoke up Barclay. 'Why not?'

  The Cyberleader waited until the chorus of voices had died down.

  'It is unimportant.'

  'Like hell!' Cutler flared. 'We must get them down. Get out of my way.' He started to move towards the radar screen—but was blocked by the Cyberman.

  'There is no point,' the Cyberleader continued. 'They could never reach Earth now.'

  The three time travellers came out of the observation room. Polly walked up to the Cyberleader. 'But don't you care?'

  'Care?' the Cyberleader repeated. 'I do not understand.'

  'Care because they're people. They're going to die.'

  'There are people dying all over your world. Do you "care" for all of them?'

  'But...' Polly floundered, 'we might save these two men.'

  The Cyberleader ignored her and strode slowly and ponderously towards the head dais. He addressed Barclay. 'You will be wondering what has happened. Your astronomers must have just discovered a new planet. Is that not so?'

  Barclay nodded excitedly. 'Yes, that's right.'

  'That is where we come from. It is called Mondas.'

  'Mondas,' Barclay repeated. 'Isn't that one of the ancient names for Earth?'


  'Yes. Aeons ago the planets were twins. Then we drifted away from you to the very edge of space. Now we have returned.'

  Ben turned to the Doctor and spoke under his breath. 'You were right, Doctor.'

  General Cutler, confused by this exchange, strode forward and tried to reassert his authority.

  'But who, or...' He looked at their shining, silver-clad limbs—obviously made from a plastic-and-metal alloy. '... what are you?'

  'We are called Cybermen,' replied the Cyberleader. 'We were exactly like you once. Then our Cybernetic scientists realised that our race was weakening.'

  'Weakening? How?' asked Barclay.

  'Our life span was contracting, so our scientists and doctors invented spare parts for our bodies until we could be almost completely replaced.'

  'But,' Polly burst in, 'that means you're not like us. You're not people at all, you're... robots ! '

  'That is not so. Our brains are just like yours except that certain... weaknesses have been removed.'

  'Weaknesses?' repeated Barclay. 'What weaknesses?'

  Behind him, Cutler started edging back towards his console.

  'You call them emotions, do you not?'

  'But that's terrible!' exclaimed Polly. 'You mean you wouldn't feel for someone in pain?'

  'There would be no need. We do not feel pain.'

  'But we do.' Polly's eyes flashed. Alone of all the people in the room, she seemed completely unafraid of the three tall visitors from space.

  Shielded by Barclay and the other men, Cutler reached the console. He lunged forward and pressed down the call switch to the International Space Command headquarters.

  Krail's two assistants immediately raised their guns to fire at him—but the Cyberleader raised a restraining hand and walked over to the General.

  Cutler stared at him defiantly. 'That'll stop you. I've just declared a state of international emergency!'

  Wigner was speaking urgently to his conference colleagues at International Space Command.

  'It seems to me that there is a pattern. Number one—a new planet appears. Number two—the Earth is losing its energy. Number three—the planet gets nearer and the energy loss increases. This, to my mind, connects the two. Exactly how, I don't know. But... yes, what is it?'

  One of the technicians by the communications con-sole had stood up to catch his attention. 'An emergency buzz from the Pole, sir.'

  'What do they say?'

  'Nothing, sir. It went off again immediately.'

  Wigner looked around at the other men and pondered for a moment. 'Heavy static, emergency signal—they're in serious trouble, sir.'

  He nodded to the waiting technician. 'Get them on the emergency microwave link.'

  The tension in the space tracking room had reached fever pitch. Only the Cybermen themselves seemed to show no signs of having been affected by the situation. The Cyberleader, his voice flat and monotonous as ever, began to speak to Cutler. 'You will—'

  A loud, intermittent buzzing interrupted him. A red light started flashing behind the dais. Cutler smiled triumphantly at the Cyberleader.

  'Now,' continued the Cyberleader, 'you will pick up the radio and tell Europe International Space Command that nothing further has happened and that all is well here.'

  Cutler shook his head firmly. 'No way!'

  'That is an order.' The Cyberman's flat electronic voice only emphasised the menace in his words.

  'I refuse—and there's nothing you can do about it.' The tall General's head was almost on a level with that of the Cyberleader. He stared hard at the blank circular eye holes as if trying to probe through to the mind within.

  For a moment, the Cyberman seemed to pause indecisively.

  'They're going to back down,' whispered Polly in excitement. But Ben quickly put his hand over her mouth before the Cyberman could catch another word.

  The Cyberleader put his hand to his chest unit and turned one of the knobs mounted on its concertina-like surface. A blinding flash of light—similar to a photographic flash gun—streaked out from the mounted light on the Cyberman's helmet. It seemed to stretch in a long vivid blue arc to the side of General Cutler's head. He screamed with pain, his head jerked back, and he crumpled to the floor.

  As the man nearest to him rushed forward to help, Krail gestured to him to stay back.

  'You murderers!' Polly shouted. 'You've killed him!'

  6 Ben into Action

  At the order of the Cyberleader, one of the Cybermen bent down, lifted the heavy body of the American General as easily as that of a five-year-old child, and stretched him out along the top of the nearest console. Apart from a slight black burn mark where the lightning flash had struck, the General seemed to be unharmed.

  'He is not dead,' confirmed the Cyberleader. 'He will recover.'

  There was a gasp of relief from the assembled men.

  'Now,' continued the Cyberleader, looking around, 'who will give the message to your space commander?' His eyes came to rest on Dyson, and a long silver arm pointed towards him. Dyson fell back, face sweating, mouth sagging open with fear.

  'You—which are the communication controls?' Dyson quickly turned and walked over to the R/T communication console.

  'Dyson,' Barclay's voice was like a whip lash. 'Think what you're doing, man!'

  The Englishman turned to face him. His face was twisted with agony and fear. 'What else can we do? They'll kill us all.'

  For a moment Barclay hovered uncertainly and then turned to the Cyberleader. 'What are you going to do?'

  'You will see,' replied Krail.

  The Cyberleader reached down and unclipped the long Cyberweapon that had killed the guard. He brought it up and took aim at the centre of the communications console.

  'No! ' cried Barclay. He rushed forward and interposed his body between the Cyberleader's gun and the R/T set. 'If you destroy those, all contact with the space capsule will be broken!'

  Dyson turned to Barclay. 'For God's sake, man, do as he asks.' His voice quavered. 'Do you want the place destroyed?'

  The tall Australian hesitated for a moment—and then nodded. 'All right.' He picked up the desk microphone.

  'Hello, Geneva. Hello, Geneva.'

  After a brief crackle of static, the waiting men heard the voice of Wigner over the R/T loudspeaker.

  'Snowcap—at last! What's going on? We received an emergency call from you on the micro-link.'

  Barclay wiped his brow for a moment. 'Ah, yes—it was—an error, sir. We're working on it now. Sorry about the false alarm.'

  'Where is this static coming from? We can hardly hear you—even on this band.'

  Barclay looked round, desperately searching for an explanation. The Cyberleader, standing right in front of him, slowly raised the gun until it was on a level with his face.

  'I—I—er—it's most likely to have been the reactor. We had the moderator rods out for a short while this afternoon.'

  After a long pause, Wigner spoke again. 'I see. Contact us if you have ,any further reports on this new planet.'

  'Yes, sir.' Barclay leant forward and switched off the R/T set with his trembling hand. Without looking further at the Cybermen and the other men, he staggered back to his console and collapsed into his seat. Dyson followed him over and put his hand on his shoulder.

  'We'd have all done exactly the same, Dr Barclay. We had no option.'

  Barclay looked up, pushed Dyson's hand off his shoulder and, with sudden resolve, stood up and walked across to the Cyberleader. His voice rang round the tracking room.

  'Right. We've done what you asked. Now you must let us try to recover our astronauts.'

  'I told you—it is impossible for them to get back now. The pull of Mondas is too strong.'

  'You can at least let us try!'

  'It is a foregone conclusion—you are wasting your time. However, if you wish to contact them, I have no objection.'

  Krail turned to the other two Cybermen.

  'He and his c
olleagues may use their equipment. Any attempt at deceit—kill them at once.' The Cyberleader pointed to the body of the dead soldier. 'Take that out of here.'

  As the Cybermen dragged the body of the soldier from the room, Barclay desperately tried to make contact with the two stranded astronauts.

  'Zeus Four, Zeus Four, come in please. Zeus Four, Zeus Four, come in.'

  After what seemed an age, the voice of Colonel Williams came through.

  'We have you. Over.'

  'Prepare to check orbital vectors.'

  Meanwhile, Ben had been edging closer to the Doctor. He now leant across and spoke in his ear.

  'While they fight it out, Doctor, let's make a break for it.'

  'Eh? Break for it?'

  'Yes. We can get back to the TARDIS.'

  'How, my boy?'

  'We can run for it—down that corridor to the trap door, and bolt it behind us.'

  The Doctor shook his head. 'They'd burn it down in a flash.'

  Ben looked round desperately. 'There must be something we can do.' He spotted one of the carbines which had been dropped by the guard, and now stood propped against the wall. 'For a start, we can use that.'

  Polly pricked up her ears. 'Ben, don't be crazy. They'll see you.'

  Ben shook his head. He started edging his way across the room towards the gun...

  'Ground range computer.' All the men in the room were fully concentrating on the job in hand. They were relieved to be handling a familiar routine.

  Williams' voice came over the loudspeaker. 'On target.'

  'Steering jet fuel reserve?' queried Barclay. Schultz's voice answered. 'Adequate.'

  Ben had almost reached the gun. He glanced around quickly. The three Cybermen were looking fixedly, immobile as statues, towards Barclay and the wavering television picture of Schultz and Williams.

  'Suit temperature,' continued Barclay.

  With a quick motion, Ben bent down, grabbed the barrel of the carbine, and swung it behind him. Quick as his action had been, it had not escaped the attention of the Cyberleader. He wheeled round and advanced on the three time travellers.